


Devil in the Details

by appending_fic



Category: Original Work
Genre: Courtroom Drama, Daniel Webster - Freeform, Deal with a Devil, Gen, Trials
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-08
Updated: 2019-03-08
Packaged: 2019-11-13 20:17:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18038246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/appending_fic/pseuds/appending_fic
Summary: Isaac Stone made a deal with the Devil, and when time came to collect, did the most American thing and sued Satan for possession of his soul. His attorney Daniel will do everything he can to save his client's soul, but only as much as he can within the law.But what can he do to save a man from a contract signed in his own hand?(Inspired by/remixed 'Devil and Daniel Webster')





	Devil in the Details

Daniel mopped his forehead with a handkerchief, trying to dispel the hellish heat of the courtroom, but it would not be dissuaded. Sweat returned to replace the sweat removed from his skin. It was one of a thousand annoyances that plagued the trial, ways that his adversary sought to drain Daniel’s fortitude. The clock, Daniel noted, ticked at an irregular beat, sometimes delaying as much as a full extra second before it would sound again. There was, of course, the heat, which Daniel suspected was a welcome change of pace for his adversary, and the audience, which Daniel was not used to. He rarely spoke before more than a dozen people, and even then, all of them would be professionals. This was not to mention the atmosphere. The justice overruled Daniel’s every objection, and sustained every of his adversary’s.

Not for the first time, Daniel wondered what had led him to this point.

Presumably, Daniel had made some poor choices in school. He had not sought to make connections when an undergrad, nor had he spent much time establishing himself amongst any of the major law firms. He had drifted into what he had believed to be a profitable branch of law, only to find that no one worth anything wanted him.

Daniel was left with no option but to start his own office, one that made little enough money that he had not thought anything truly odd about the case of Isaac Stone. The man, a well-built black man, square-jawed, green-eyed, and dressed in a pale blue suit, sat heavily in the chair opposite Daniel, staring at the wood of the desk.

“Mr. Stone, I have to admit, I don’t often deal with foreclosure cases. I’m sure you saw the sign outside-”

“I know. You think I don’t know that? But you’re my last chance. I’ve been laughed out of twelve law firms already, and I got less than a month left. I need your help.” He bent his head lower, as if in supplication or prayer. “Please.”

In the face of such desperation, Daniel felt a twist in his heart, a pain that made his stomach churn. He forced a smile onto his face. “I hardly undertook an oath comparable with Hippocrates, but I cannot turn away a man in such need. So, let’s see what your problem is, and I’ll do what I can.”

As it turned out, the devil, as it were, was in the details.

“And so, on the fourteenth of April, 2007, did you or did you not sign a contract?” Daniel scowled at his adversary, the opposition’s lawyer, who had forgotten more about law than Daniel could learn in a lifetime, but the solicitor had his gimlet eyes fixed on Mr. Stone.

Isaac shifted under the focus of that gaze, shooting Daniel a desperate glance. Daniel merely shrugged. “Yes,” Isaac replied. “But-”

“Please do not answer a question I did not ask,” the adversary snapped. “Is this the contract in question?” He raised a stack of paper above his head.

“Yes.”

“A copy of the contract has been provided to the jury. It describes an agreement between the plaintiff, Isaac Stone, and...a Mr. Scratch. Mr. Scratch agreed to provide to Mr. Stone thirteen years of good luck, wealth, and prosperity. In exchange, Mr. Stone agreed to render unto Mr. Scratch his immortal soul. Mr. Stone, is this an accurate description of the contents of the contract you signed?”

Isaac gave Daniel another pained look. Daniel sighed and shrugged again; as much as he would wish otherwise, his client was well-entrapped. Isaac confirmed that yes, he had signed the contract. He had signed it of his own free will. Mr. Scratch had made no threats to compel him to sign. In fact, Isaac had sought out Mr. Scratch for the express purposes of making the agreement. From what little Daniel knew about contract law, Isaac had signed himself into an ironclad prison.

His adversary continued to speak, drawing out Isaac’s fall from grace and forcing the man to air his decision to damn himself before the jury. The twelve men and women watched the scene with hungry gazes, fixed on the sorry soul whose fate was in their hands. Suddenly caught by a whim, Daniel turned away from Isaac and his adversary to watch the jury. No matter what the law, these twelve had been given the power to set Isaac free. If Daniel could speak to their hopes...

Daniel gritted his teeth and broke his fixed gaze. He wouldn’t do it. He would not win this trial through trickery, not if there was a chance of winning the day within the bounds of the law. If that meant giving Scratch his due-

“Counselor? Is something the matter?” Daniel, with every eye in the courtroom fixed on him, flushed as he straightened his papers, and retrieved the few stray ones that had fallen when he had been moved by the shock of his realization.

“I’m well, Your Honor,” Daniel replied.

“Are you certain?” his adversary asked with a salacious wink. “I would not wish to prove my point against an advocate who was not feeling his...best.”

Daniel almost denied the need for a break, but when Daniel met his adversary’s gaze, and saw his toothy smirk. His adversary wanted Daniel to react without thinking, which meant Daniel should take all the time the judge would give him. Pressing his palms against his desk for support, Daniel struggled to his feet, and raised a wan smile to the judge.

“Your Honor, I would appreciate a short recess, so I can...collect myself.” Deciding that taking a page out of his adversary’s book wouldn’t be the end of the world, Daniel winked at the judge. “You could take a walk on the town.”

“A wonderful idea.” The judge ignored the opposing attorney’s half-open mouth and raised hand as he slammed his gavel into the bench. “This court will be adjourned until next morning. And I hope there will be no further interruptions.”

Daniel was on his feet the moment the judge stopped speaking; his attempt to leave the courtroom, however, was stymied by the hand on his jacket. Isaac looked at him with such unabashed hope that, for a moment, Daniel was sorry for what he planned to do.

“Sir, have you - that is, do you know a way out of this?”

Daniel let a smile drift onto his face, and he nodded, although a part of him railed at the lie. But it would do no good for his adversary to get wind of his attempt, and as for his client...well, if things went well, Isaac would be free of his contract. But he doubted the man would appreciate the distinction.

Daniel was outside a moment later, already scrambling for his phone. Unlike the judge, who Daniel could see was seated beneath a tree, eyes shaded by a wide-brimmed hat, Daniel had no eyes for his surroundings as he made what would prove to be the first of many calls. He had not made proper networking, but Daniel discovered that, especially in certain professions, the laws of association placed him not far from the people to whom he wished to speak. And once he spoke of the truth of the matter (although his adversary, citing some unfortunate incident some years ago, had fought to keep the trial from being publicized, the existence of the hearing was a matter of public record), Daniel found his colleagues eager to assent to his plan. He spent most of the night on the phone, not with a lawyer, but with a woman of a subtly different profession, providing guidance for the coming day’s trial.

Daniel was exhausted by dawn, but he was also prepared. He knew exactly what he planned to say, what points to establish and what to do. He arrived at the courthouse half an hour before eight, and settled in his seat. Slowly, others began to gather, as well. Daniel nodded when he saw ladies and gentlemen of his acquaintance, and allowed a small smile when the first news crew arrived. Daniel didn’t doubt that his adversary wished no publicity in the fear of the remote chance that he would lose, and that any record of the loss would be irreparably embarrassing; he did not, however, hold much hope that the presence of the media would fluster his opponent.

Still, when Daniel’s adversary appeared just seconds before eight, he gave Daniel a look of such venom that, were it not a court of law and his adversary bound by the laws of that place, it would have killed him on the spot. He shivered, and Isaac, who had arrived a moment later, looked down at Daniel before sitting.

“Are you frightened?” he demanded.

“Immeasurably so,” Daniel said evenly. “Today I plan to make a powerful enemy.”

Isaac’s eyes brightened and he leaned close. When he spoke, there was a concealed edge that had not been present in his voice for days. “You mean you believe you can win?”

“Mr. Scratch will lose this day,” Daniel said.

“All rise for his Honor.” Daniel stood, and waited for the ceremony of the court to complete. At last, the judge nodded to him.

“You may begin, counselor.”

“Very well. I would like to call Mr. Scratch to the bench,” Daniel announced. The jurors gave a collective gasp and huddled together in a single panicked moment, and out among the courtroom, whispers sounded.

“Objection! Your Honor, this is nothing more than a sensationalistic stunt to draw attention from the facts of this case,” Daniel’s adversary snapped. “I demand you dismiss this request for irrelevance and charge my opponent with contempt of court-”

“Your Honor, if I am to make my case, I must have Mr. Scratch take the bench,” Daniel insisted. “It may very well be that there is some fact of the agreement that Mr. Stone overlooked. Please, if there is anything of justice in your heart, give me this witness.”

The judge stared at Daniel, and under the scrutiny of this man, a man of law nevertheless tapped to oversee this, the court of the damned, Daniel felt the urge to let his secret go, to tell the judge everything. He settled for a wink, and that gave the judge pause.

“Very well,” the man said, settling back in his chair. “Mr. Scratch is henceforth ordered to appear in this courtroom or he will be found in contempt.”

A moment later, Mr. Scratch was seated on the bench. Mr. Scratch, dressed in a worn, well-fitted suit, wore a neat little goatee and a smug little smile. He was the sort of man who any man would look at and assume to be of his own race. There was something universal about Mr. Scratch, which was just as well. Only his eyes, flint-black and chilled as his home, betrayed anything at all unusual about Mr. Scratch.

“Your Honor,” Mr. Scratch said.

“You must take an oath,” the judge said.

“Must I?” Mr. Scratch asked mildly. “I may not. Exodus 20:7: You must not take up the name of JHVH your God in a worthless way.”

“Then will you affirm to tell the truth?” the judge asked.

“I am not certain I can,” Mr. Scratch replied. “For am I not called by the Lord God himself the Prince of Lies? To demand that a man supersede his divine nature in the pursuit of human laws is to demand the impossible, I feel.”

Daniel glanced at his adversary, who had a hungry look in his eyes, perhaps an objection stored up for Daniel’s expected response. Daniel shook his head and stepped up to the bench.

“You need not force Mr. Scratch to act against his nature,” he said. “I feel the facts I need will arise naturally, without demanding he not engage in any deceit.” He smiled benevolently at his adversary, whose expression gave way to a puzzled look. “Now, if I may begin?”

“Do you have any objections, counselor?” the judge asked of Daniel’s adversary.

“Ah, yes, I mean...I have none,” the adversary concluded.

“Thank you.” Daniel stepped toward the bench and nodded to Mr. Scratch, whose expression had not changed through the small debate. “Mr. Scratch. Could you educate this courtroom as to your nature?”

Mr. Scratch’s smile grew. “I am certain every person here knows me.”

“Nevertheless.”

“I am Lucifer, the Morning Star, the Prince of Lies and Lord of Darkness, the devil and king of demons, master of Hell and Lord of Evil,” Mr. Scratch said. “Colloquially, I am Nicolas Scratch.”

“You are the gentleman who signed the contract under dispute?” Daniel asked.

“I believe some would object to using the word gentleman to describe me,” Mr. Scratch said to general laughter.

“Really? Generally, a man who owns as much real estate as you do, especially under divine mandate, is considered a gentleman de facto. The fact that you are the source of many significant evils, as well, is likely a happy coincidence.” Mr. Scratch’s expression flickered for a moment, and Daniel felt a thrill. Mr. Scratch had expected to play the crowd like a fiddle, to force them to like him, and to use that sympathy to win the day. Keep him off-balance, his friends had suggested. Never let him get a glimpse of what you are doing.

“Getting back to my original question,” Daniel said with a smile to Mr. Scratch, a gentle one that took the sting out of what might be considered a mild rebuke, “Did you sign this contract?”

“That is a photocopy,” Mr. Scratch replied. “No one’s original signature rests upon it.”

“Of course,” Daniel said, nodding. “So did you sign the original contract?” Mr. Scratch mouthed a few words, and, realizing there was no way to worm out of an answer, nodded. “Let the record show the witness nodded.”

“So noted.”

“What were the terms of this agreement?” Daniel asked.

“Objection! This has been discussed already!” the adversary shouted.

“I would like to ensure the plaintiff and defendant have presented the same facts,” Daniel said.

The judge stared at Daniel and nodded. “Overturned. Go on.”

“Mr. Scratch?”

“Oh, the usual,” Mr. Scratch said airily.

When a few moment passed with no explanation forthcoming, Daniel stepped closer to Mr. Scratch. “Would you mind elaborating?”

“Yes. I would.”

Daniel stepped away and took a slow circuit back to Mr. Scratch, pausing to smile at the jury before he did. He did not believe Mr. Scratch would be so insufferable if he were certain of winning. “Please detail the terms of the agreement, Mr. Scratch.”

Mr. Scratch sighed and rolled his eyes; the affectation of frustration nevertheless buoyed Daniel. “For thirteen years I provided Mr. Stone wealth and prosperity, and now, by the terms of our contract, I may take possession of his immortal soul.”

“By what means do you provide wealth and prosperity?” Daniel asked.

Mr. Scratch’s face took on an odd, frozen quality, and Daniel’s adversary, who had been taking notes, let his pen slow and stop. “I’m sorry. What is the purpose of this question?” Mr. Scratch asked.

Daniel shrugged. “Please answer.”

“Your Honor,” the adversary said, rising, “Mr. Scratch runs an exclusive enterprise, one that relies heavily on a number of trade secrets-”

“Oh, he can give a general answer,” Daniel said lightly, stepping over to pat his adversary’s shoulder. “If you’re afraid to be more detailed.”

“Ah...I have...individuals in my employ, quite a few financial resources, and that sort of thing,” Mr. Scratch said. His counsel opened his mouth, perhaps to protest, but at a sharp look from Mr. Scratch, closed it with a click. “It varies from person to person.”

“So you were not just being flippant when you described this deal as ‘the usual’, were you?” Daniel asked.

“I think the myriad agreements I have made are a matter of public record,” Mr. Scratch said. He smiled, but there was something brittle about the expression. Mr. Scratch wasn’t certain what was happening, and that took off some of his edge and natural humor. “But yes, I make a number of deals.”

“And is your compensation always the individual’s immortal soul?” Daniel asked idly.

“Broadly, yes,” Mr. Scratch said. “Sometimes I don’t bother, if I feel the individual is damned anyway, but...waste not, want not.” He shrugged.

“True enough,” Daniel agreed. “So in the broad scheme of things, Mr. Stone’s soul is one of...oh, about how many?”

Daniel’s adversary shot to his feet. “Objec-”

“Do be quiet!” Mr. Scratch snapped, sending his counsel back down like a puppet with its strings cut. “Many more than most would prefer to think,” he said. “I’m afraid prior contracts preclude me stating an exact number, but...yes, Mr. Stone’s soul is but a fraction of the wealth I would accumulate this year alone.”

“Wealth?” Daniel asked. “I’m not certain I follow.”

Mr. Scratch laughed, a sound that cut Daniel to the spine. It was not only an unkind laugh, but a mocking, vicious sound that carried with it every unpleasant emotion native to humanity. “The collection of every damned human soul is the collection of wealth. After all, is not the value of a soul inestimable?”

“You say they have no value?”

Mr. Scratch gave Daniel a scornful scowl. “Of course not. What I mean is that they have - oh, infinite value. All of the wealth of the world could not buy a single human soul!”

Daniel nodded and carefully wrote on his pad ‘wealth of the world’. “Understood. Thank you for explaining to me. Now...where was I?” Daniel flipped through his papers, as if searching for some note. He waited until Mr. Scratch had been tapping his fingers against the bench for more than a minute before looking up and continuing; while it was rarely useful in his specialty, Daniel knew the value of making an opponent believe you more foolish than you are.

“Ah! Yes, what were the circumstances of you devising this contract?” Daniel beamed at Mr. Scratch, and something, it seemed, snapped.

“Why are you asking? We heard it from your client’s own mouth! He came to me offering the deal, and told me exactly what he wished. He signed the contract under his own will, and is as surely mine as the jury of the damned before you!”

Daniel’s adversary was halfway to his feet, face as stricken as any man’s, when Mr. Scratch completed his boast. Daniel turned to his adversary and gave him a grim smile, but he did not make any objection, and that gave his adversary pause. Daniel had him; he could declare this a mistrial and demand a change of venue, a restructuring of the trial, and that he might win.

But Daniel had no need to do so. He was going to crush Mr. Scratch.

He crossed the courtroom and stepped close to Mr. Scratch, closer than any other man would dare, and smiled at him. “Then I suppose I have to admit defeat,” he said with a shrug. “By the terms of this contract, and...I suppose many more like it, you have earned this man’s soul.”

“Are you certain?” the judge asked. “Traditionally, the jury must still deliberate-”

“You’re giving up?” Isaac shouted from behind Daniel. Daniel didn’t turn; he couldn’t look back at the man. “I trusted you!”

“I’m afraid so,” Daniel replied.

Mr. Scratch’s smile took on a hungry, demonic quality, and so Daniel knew he had to act quickly. “Anyway, someone asked me to give you this.”

He handed over the slim envelope, which Mr. Scratch took automatically. Daniel let his smile reflect Mr. Scratch’s as Mr. Scratch’s eyes widened almost imperceptibly.

“What did you-?”

“Mr. Scratch.” A small group of men and women had risen from their seats. The lead, a dark, petite woman in a black pantsuit, stepped forward. “I wonder if we might have a word outside?”

Mr. Scratch narrowed his eyes. “No. You may say this to all present. I would hear what the meaning of this is.”

The woman glanced back at a pair of seated men who nodded, and then turned back to Mr. Scratch, smiling. “My name is Special Agent Aldora, Internal Revenue Service.”

There were few enough news channels that felt it worth sending observers to this trial, but there were men and women with their phones, and still a few cameras, so the world would soon have the opportunity to see the easy charm, the confidence, the demonic assurance of his superiority, slip from Mr. Scratch’s face. His jaw opened and closed twice, struggling against the urge to make some outburst, until, at last, he decided upon a scowl at Special Agent Aldora.

“And what business does the Internal Revenue Service have with me, Miss Aldora?”

Special Agent’s Aldora’s expression did not shift at the casual insult, her grey eyes as cool and professional as when she had stood. “Federal law prohibits the disclosure of information about the state of an individual’s affairs before-”

“You will tell me your business, before all the world, if you must!” Mr. Scratch roared. In his fury, his human facade flickered, revealing for a moment the bright, cold-eyed creature beneath, dark wings stretched behind him. But then he was just a man, panting, glaring at the tiny woman before him.

Special Agent Aldora glanced back at her colleagues, and, on receiving a nod, reached back to pick up a briefcase, stepped forward to Daniel’s table, and set it upon the surface. She snapped it open and removed a sheaf of papers. “What you possess, Mr. Scratch, is a summons to appear before the Internal Revenue Service to discuss your last hundred or so federal tax returns.”

“But-” Mr. Scratch’s jaw snapped shut before he could speak further, but all could see the tension in his jaw, the subtle shift of his gaze as he turned to Daniel’s adversary.

The adversary slid forward, apparently unruffled by this turn of events. “I am not certain this is the proper venue-”

“Your client himself insisted we discuss this before the entire world,” the judge said evenly, but there, Daniel could see the edge of a smile, the edge of an unholy glee in the judge’s demeanor.

The adversary straightened to a height that seemed to to tower over all in the courtroom as he glared down at the judge. “Then tell me by what authority any mortal power would claim jurisdiction over Lucifer, the Morning Star, the Prince of Lies and Lord of Darkness, the devil and king of demons, master of Hell and Lord of Evil?”

The judge did not bother to hide his vicious smile as he stared fixedly at the adversary, who appeared to shrink under the gaze until he looked no taller than Daniel. “Stone v. Scratch, in which Lucifer, the Morning Star, the Prince of Lies and Lord of Darkness, the devil and king of demons, master of Hell and Lord of Evil, submitted to a mortal authority to settle the proper disposition of a contract. In fact, Lucifer, the Morning Star, the Prince of Lies and Lord of Darkness, the devil and king of demons, master of Hell and Lord of Evil, consented to be bound by the summons of the court.”

The adversary’s hands clenched into fists that dripped blood to the courtroom floor as the adversary examined every legal avenue to which he had access.

But Mr. Scratch held no such composure. He merely turned his baleful gaze upon Special Agent Aldora, the hint of bared fangs to be seen along the line of his lips.

“Then tell me, Miss Aldora, what you hope to accomplish. I have gold aplenty, if you will demand your pound of flesh from me. In fact, I will happily undertake my responsibility to fund the workings of this government, in which I so obviously have a hand.” The last jab was awkward and unsubtle, more a reflex than a conscious effort to continue to appear witty.

Special Agent Aldora nodded. “Your material wealth is of course an item of concern, but we have actually chosen to focus on your...intangible assets.”

Mr. Scratch still possessed the barest scrap of composure, enough to show no change in expression, but the adversary’s face blanched at the words, as Special Agent Aldora continued.

“You have opined your earned income consists of a fair number of...assets whose values are each greater than all the wealth on Earth. A conservative estimate, therefore, is that you owe the United States government 9.5 trillion dollars per soul earned, although I’m certain we can reach a more precise value once we complete our audit. I do trust you will be able to provide us with the necessary paperwork.”

Daniel was certain that every camera was focused squarely on Mr. Scratch, because there could be no more newsworthy sight than that of the face of the Devil himself reflecting the slowly dawning realization that he had at last fallen prey to the more terrifying of life’s certainties.

After all, a man could hope for Heaven after death. There was no mercy or forgiveness in taxes.

Oh, the Internal Revenue Service never collected their trillions of dollars from Old Scratch, for they instead negotiated a more humanitarian settlement. As the value of a human soul was infinite, it could be repaid only in kind. And as the United States government could not claim ownership of a human soul, the remittance was nothing less than the Harrowing of Hell accomplished with the stroke of a pen.

A pyrrhic victory indeed, for Old Scratch, and a loss Daniel could be proud of.

**Author's Note:**

> I've always been vaguely irritated by how Daniel Webster won his trial, so I offer my own take, in time for tax season, even.


End file.
